A Toxic Fortune
by Priscillady
Summary: When former agent, now turned undercover spy, Mikan Sakura is needed the most by both sides, she is forced to choose between Natsume Hyuuga, her police chief who seemingly views her as merely a pawn, and Tsubasa Andou, the mafia's second-in-charge of whom trusts her with his life. A twisted, shady love story in which both loyalty and lust mingle dangerously.


**A Toxic Fortune**

**Chapter One**

* * *

Usually, Mikan would be quite wary of the intentions of her co-worker. He was the type of man who always concocted secret plans, but eventually he would inform Mikan about every detail.

It was the reason why Mikan was dazed as she sat at a ten-seater table in a Chinese restaurant, as her work mates discussed strange topics as if there was nothing odd about the situation.

Mikan never expected the men around her to talk about the _next baseball tournament_, of all things.

"Woo! Go Yokohama!"

"No way, Seibu's gonna win this time! Without a doubt!"

"Hok-kai-do!"

She never expected them to act like normal males their age, and she couldn't help but feel sceptical about their loud behaviour in the restaurant.

"Those teams suck," She heard Tsubasa, who had decided to join the fan war of the baseball teams, speak, "Yomiuri's gonna take the trophy this time!"

The whole table, except for Mikan, had protested immediately at his comment. She noticed the manager of the restaurant sending their table an annoyed scowl, and the brunette slightly bowed in apology for the men around her.

_Maybe something good happened? _She assumed, as she picked up her chopsticks and picked up a warm dim sim for herself.

Mikan hadn't actually considered what she was going to eat for dinner that day, so she was partly relieved that Tsubasa had chosen to take them for dinner – for Chinese, nonetheless.

"Mikan, don't you think that Yomiuri's gonna win the tournament this time?" Tsubasa turned to her, and she could see the pleading look in his eye.

"Um… yes?" It was an awkward reply, but she felt odd underneath the pressuring gazes of the recently discovered sports fanatics on her restaurant table.

"See! Mikan thinks so! Beat that!" Ignoring her unsure tone, Tsubasa cheered as he pumped his fist in the air.

_Maybe it's for good measure, _she told herself as she smiled slightly – she couldn't help but do so, while watching the men act like regular humans for once. It was an unusual sight, but it was a rather pleasant one, even after everything that they did.

She ignored the dark haired man's cheering and the others' desperate protesting as she nibbled on her dim sim silently, discarding her consideration that maybe ramen was a more idyllic meal for that evening.

Before she had realised, she had consumed more than anyone else sitting at the table. She hadn't eaten much for the whole day because of work, and the more she ate, the more she realised how hungry she was.

"Mikan," Tsubasa drawled as he placed an arm over her shoulders, "Why are you so quiet today? Are you sick? Or is it stress from work?"

She looked up at his worried expression. Tsubasa, despite his heritage, was always attentive of her feelings and actions – for good reason. He was always the first to ask her if anything was wrong – if she was having problems or issues, or if she was feeling unwell. At times, Mikan felt guilty because of how much he seemed to care about her.

"No, I'm just tired. Thanks." She quickly cleared up, knowing that the slight feelings of remorse would fade away sooner the quicker he turned away, but unfortunately Lady Luck wasn't entirely on her side that day.

"Wait, does that mean that you don't actually like baseball?"

However, he was the type of person who could come to the silliest conclusions – although they were true, they were still strange.

"To be honest, I've never really watched many games…" Mikan admitted, apologetic.

"See, Andou! Yomiuri's going down!" She was quickly interrupted by Hayate, and the other men cheered and agreed with his proud statement.

"Wait, no way!" Tsubasa was also an easily distracted man when it didn't involve work.

Mikan breathed out a sigh of relief. She had no idea how to react if it had turned out to be an awkward silence – Tsubasa wasn't someone she had ever dealt with before.

She was the first to notice the waitress walking towards their table, assuming that she was about to tell the group to quieten down. Instead, the waitress served fortune cookies on front of everyone on their table. However, she noticed that even though Tono, who was seated two chairs away from her, was the furthest from where the waitress had arrived, he was the first to be served. No one else had seemed to notice the tiny irregularity.

_Could it be?_

With his elegant fingers, Tono immediately cracked the cookie into two clean pieces. Mikan watched him intently, feeling tense. She analysed him for changes in facial expression, fidgeting, or suspicious movements.

She listened carefully as he read his small fortune.

"Enjoyed the meal? Buy one to go too." Tono sighed as he showed the slip of paper to an interested Hayate. "Tsubasa, you know what to do."

"Hey, that's your fortune, not mine!" Tsubasa growled, oblivious to Mikan's blank expression.

_Maybe I just overreacted, _she told herself as she looked down at her own cookie, _but I can't help but consider it…_

She blocked out the argument between Tono and Tsubasa about the small fortune and the paying rights linked to it, as she cracked open her own fortune cookie. After brushing away the small crumbs and popping a small piece of it in her mouth, she read the small white strip.

_YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUIRED ELSEWHERE. NOW._

_Lucky Numbers: 00-80-49-12-96-55_

_Daily Numbers: 0-1-7_

Mikan froze in her seat, and her chewing had stopped. She now understood the weird actions of the waitress. The numbers on the fortune were too familiar to pass off as coincidental.

"So… what did you get, Mikan?" Tsubasa leant forward in an attempt to read the piece of paper in her hands.

In a hurry, she shoved the fortune strip into the pocket of her blazer and stood up from her seat.

"Oh, it's just one of those clichéd ones where 'my dearest wishes will come true'." Mikan smoothly lied – she had improved her acting skills ever since she started working where she did, and now lying was second nature to her.

"Where are you going, Mikan?" Tsubasa asked her as he cracked his own cookie open.

"Just the bathroom. I'll be back quickly." She reassured him with a grin as she set the restaurant napkin on the table gently.

As she tried to leave quickly, Tsubasa quickly grabbed her arm. "Be careful, okay? You don't know the kind of creeps who could lurk in there. Even though I bet you could kick their ass."

Mikan smiled at his concerned statement. It had been a while since someone had expressed that much care for her, and she felt touched.

_If only he knew._

"Thanks, Tsubasa." She murmured before she left the table towards the female bathroom.

* * *

As soon as she turned the corner – away from the eyes of the men sitting at her table – she began to walk faster, and she immediately diverted her steps away from the bathrooms, and located the doors which led to the area behind the restaurant building.

"Thank god there aren't any other females dining with us." She muttered under her breath as she stepped out into the cold, scanning the area.

Mikan took caution as she walked along the uneven, rocky surface around the building in her heels, as she made her away around the restaurant towards the main street. There, she noticed a black Mercedes Benz with its flashlights off waiting at the curb.

It was a car too familiar for Mikan not to notice.

She exhaled deeply, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and walked towards the passenger side of the luxury vehicle. As soon as she stopped in her steps, right next to the car door, she scoffed in annoyance before pulling the handle.

As she had expected, the door opened immediately.

Mikan scanned her surroundings, and after she confirmed that there were no possible witnesses, she entered the vehicle and slammed the door shut.

"You're really annoying, you know that?" She grumbled, crossing her arms, and not bothering to look at the receiver of her words.

"So I've been told." The man at the driver's seat stated. "I'm surprised, you took longer than I expected in getting here."

"Excuse me? You're not the one trying to escape from mafia members who want to read the fortune in your cookie!" Mikan hissed as she shifted in her seat to finally face the man she was speaking to.

She often liked to call him the_ blood-eyed devil._

He snorted before replying in the way which she had expected him to. "It's your problem, not mine."

There wasn't a person which she felt more irritated by than him.

"Ugh! You should at least sympathise with the person who works for you!" She sighed, sending a glare his way. "I even had to throw my future away because of you!"

Natsume scoffed, an amused smirk on his face. "Tch. You mean your empty dream of getting married, having kids and living an unrealistically happy life? Stop wishing. It's going to get you nowhere."

His remark hit her hard. All she had longed for after her retirement from the FBI was the life which most women her age were able to live and experience – falling in love, getting married, having kids of her own – and even grandkids, and most especially, have no involvement in the darkness of crime, as well as crime solving. However, despite her usual peppy personality, people were often intimidated by the fact that she used to work in the crime sector – even when they didn't know that she was part of the FBI – and the fact that she had left made them suspicious for reasons unknown. No matter how much she tried, her dream didn't come to her as easily as she had hoped.

The fact that she had been partly forced to re-enter the crime scene meant that she was most likely never going to have the life she had sincerely hoped for.

She blamed the whole thing on her current commander-in-chief.

"Just because you're not expecting anything worthwhile in your life, doesn't mean you have to trample the expectations of others!" Mikan growled as her eyes turned into slits.

The man exhaled deeply, massaging his temples with his thumb. "For a former elite agent of the FBI, you're goddamn annoying."

"So I've been told." She mock imitated him, her frustration growing. "I really don't want to talk to you, so just get to the point."

"Just making sure that you're not making a fool of yourself. As well as an update on what they're up to." Natsume nonchalantly requested – even though it didn't sound like he had nicely asked, as usual.

Mikan turned away, finding the interior of his car interesting to look at. She could still smell the scent of clean leather from the seats, and there was not a visible speck of dust on the sleek dashboard.

He noticed her immense interest of his car, and cleared his throat before scolding her. "And I'd like that information right now."

Alarmed by his stern voice, she broke her eyes away from the radio and glared at him, before leaning back into the seat and commencing her explanation.

"Fine. They were behind the kidnapping of the Foreign Minister's daughter, which was kept secret from the general public. They heard about the treaty which was about to be arranged between Japan and South Korea, and if there is no war, the profits would surely decline. The ransom they requested from the Minister was a declaration of war against South Korea, as well as ten and a half million dollars. They're expecting to gain the largest profit yet, if Japan mobilises soon. They've also increased the production rate of rifles and gunpowder by more than double. And they're planning to assassinate the Minister of Trade soon, and frame it on the South Koreans."

Many were often surprised at Mikan's serious side in contrast to her usual personality. Even though she didn't like the fact that her crime related occupations were separating her from a potential love life, she always took the job seriously and would do it to the best of her ability – no matter what it was.

Even if it meant that she had to work with the strict Natsume Hyuuga.

"Why?"

"The two nations are in conflict over vital trade routes. So it would be easier to frame South Korea if it's the Minister of Trade who's assassinated."

"…How soon?" The said man simply questioned.

"That I'm not sure of. But I'm sure it won't be tomorrow." Mikan's voice was firm. She had full confidence about her knowledge.

"Damn it." Natsume muttered, hitting the steering wheel in irritation. "They're even trying to start a fucking war for money?!"

"Like I said before, they're willing to do anything for profit. I know this, since I've already been promoted to third in charge after only three months." Mikan couldn't help but feel proud of her progress, even five years after her retirement.

"You're doing surprisingly better than I expected." He acknowledged, but he was still unamused.

"If you were expecting me to do badly, then why did you bring me back?"

* * *

Author's Note: Hi, this is my first story on this account. This story is inspired by a concept introduced in the movie New World, a Korean noir film. I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter! And the rating is for safety for the dark themes, but there is a high probability that there will be mature scenes in the story.


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